


Three's Complicated, Four's a Crowd

by FantabulousAss



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana is secretly a dom, Angst, F/M, Feels, I'm Sorry, Jamie is a little shit, M/M, Mako feels like a child, Mako feels neglected, OW, Reinhardt is a good, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, bad polyamory, or not so secretly, poly-ham-ery, the angst barely gets resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantabulousAss/pseuds/FantabulousAss
Summary: Junkrat wants to try something different. Roadhog finds out that this isn't exactly ideal.





	Three's Complicated, Four's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I can't promise quality lol, but I thought this was fun and heartbreaking.

This had been a mistake from the very start.

`~`

Junkrat is the one who proposed it, after they’d spent a whole year with the circus that was their new place of “legit” employment. He was young; he wanted to know what the world had to offer. Roadhog couldn’t argue with him, and in fact, didn’t want to. He completely agreed. Kids can’t run around with men twice their age, not forever, anyway.

So, Junkrat pairs off with Lùcio, who Roadhog was sure he’d been seeing before that anyway. They’re a good match, compatible for the most part and very attractive together. There are hiccups at first, nights where he comes through their room and breaks things that are already broken. These nights are where Roadhog feels like he’s needed and he’s useful. For someone used to being needed, it’s all he can really ask for… right?

Soon, though, Roadhog needed something to do to keep from thinking about how happy Junkrat and Lùcio looked together, and how little time Junkrat was spending with him anymore. After all, it was always best not to dwell in situations like this.

It’s strange how Roadhog missed Junkrat, especially when he heard the runty blond’s cackles echoing through the halls instead of at his side. After years of solitude, years of self-reliance, he became used to Junkrat and came to enjoy having him around. The sudden loss of that close contact hurt Mako more than he really thought was possible anymore. He felt... young; vulnerable.

He volunteered to help Mercy, the pretty blonde doctor, with her patients, lifting things she couldn’t, holding some down when there just wasn’t time for pain medication. He didn’t expect anything to come from it, but she smiled at him a lot, like he was something she wasn’t expecting, and it makes him forget about his weird, complicated relationship with his “employer”. It feels weird to call him that after years of being his partner. In crime. Partner in crime, that is.

The day that Reinhardt, the other big guy on their weird team, comes in is the day where Roadhog almost completely forgets about Junkrat and his weird relationship.

They are the same height, Roadhog notes with a bit of admiration. Aside from the gray of his hair, there’s hardly any allusion to his age. Crows feet and a few lines at his mouth are all the indicators he sees.

He needs stitches, in his hand. For someone so talented with a sword, this apparently happens often, usually while he is busy laughing at something one of the younger members says as he cooks meals. Mercy, Angela, scolds him while she stitches his hand up, and Roadhog feels like the elephant in the room. There is no need for him here. The other giant doesn’t even seem to feel the needle and thread piercing his skin and tying it back together.

Still, Reinhardt’s eyes fall on blank glass, and he grins. “So, Angela, my dear, why is the Junker here? Do not tell me he was a medic on that poor island.”

Angela’s concentrated scowl softens a bit and she glances towards Roadhog, lifting her eyebrows a bit. She wants to make him talk; he realizes a beat too late.

“Don’t have much to do.” He supplies after clearing his throat. “Angela is nice enough to let me help.” She smiles and tugs a suture closed.

“Why not come with me to do some sparring? You must be kept in shape, quicken those reflexes, no? Yes, yes, it is decided! You have to come to do battle with me!” He nearly lets out another boisterous laugh before Mercy tugs a little too hard, and his focus comes right back down to the cut in his hand.

Roadhog would normally be offended at the way Reinhardt just implied that he needed to fight, that he was going soft, but if he was honest, he was losing his reaction speed without his regular old paranoia constantly kicking in and ruining his moods. So, he nodded his agreement with the loud man and made a plan to meet up with him as soon as his injured hand had healed up.

`~`

Reinhardt and Ana had a strange relationship, the German had to admit. It worked, mind you, and it was healthy, and they were both happy in it, but it was strange.

They had determined years ago that they could appreciate each other more if they had experiences from others to draw their conclusions from. Reinhardt knew that Ana liked to experience being in control, so she would seek out those who would let her stay there. Likewise, Ana knew that Reinhardt enjoyed the same, though his pleasure came from other men.

It was true, whether on the battlefield or in the bedroom, the massive German loved to conquer, and there was nothing quite like conquering the fragile soldier just budding on his bi or homosexuality. Now, that was not to say that he was cruel in the bedroom. In fact, he prided himself on picking up what the younger men needed and quite often wanted in bed, sometimes before they even knew themselves. If the men were shy, however, he was happy to help them, bring them down from their shame and fear and into a place where sexuality wasn’t such a big deal... their strength on the battlefield was. He urged them to be happy with their lives and fight for what they desired and what they thought was right.

Reinhardt had never met another man like Roadhog, though, and at the moment, he didn’t think of his attraction as a need to conquer.

Roadhog was a man who’d done his own fair share of overcoming the impossible and getting what he wanted and how he wanted it, no matter how cruel his ways. He was no young soldier nervous in his first homosexual encounter. He was an enforcer and then criminal of the Outback, leather hide thickened by the sun and radiation exposure, a conqueror in his own right. He was a downright interesting man, no doubt.

Plus, he was sure to be a riot in bed.

His advances started out subtle, but they rarely got a reaction beyond an amused snort. The huge man wasn’t much for conversation, but Reinhardt didn’t mind. He enjoyed the chance to talk, and talk, and talk.

When Reinhardt focused less on subtlety, though, he finally got the reaction he was looking for. Teasing slaps on the ass merited a loud groan and a retaliation slap. The man’s huge hand, even larger than the German’s, could nearly cup his entire ass, and, well, that was an interesting new sensation.

`~`

The first time they have sex, it’s gentle. Reinhardt hadn’t expected that. He’d expected anger, maybe violence, at least a little shoving.

Instead, Roadhog lead Reinhardt to the bed, and, like a man who was used to getting what he wanted, allowed Reinhardt to do what _he_ wanted. It was awkward, but sweet. It was gentle, and slow, and incredibly, totally satisfying.

Well, except for one little detail.

Roadhog’s face was still covered by the mask.

Reinhardt didn’t like that. It meant he hadn’t quite succeeded in his venture. He hadn’t broken down the man’s every wall. Roadhog wasn’t truly comfortable with him. Shit, he was hardly comfortable enough to have the sex he really wanted or enjoyed. It was disconcerting, and honestly, the older man didn’t like it.

So, he told Ana, and asked for advice. Like he’d said; weird relationship.

At first, she laughed at him until she realized that he was serious. “Well, Reinhardt, it sounds like it was just sex for him. Just sex is not cause for that level of trust. I am surprised that he let you do what you wanted.” Her voice, calm and serious, quiet and contemplative, made him pause and think about what she was saying. She was right, of course. “I think you should talk to him. Get to know him a little further.”

They were only reading together, his head in her lap, but this was nice. He wouldn’t want this with anyone else. At the end of the day, Ana was the light of his life, so he wasn’t really sure how far he wanted this affair with the other large man to continue. Really, he was only trying to build morale and trust.

Couldn’t the Junker see that?

`~`

Roadhog was not a stupid man. It was not easy to trick him. That was why the direct approach worked best. Tell him what you wanted and if he wanted to, he would give it. Assuming you could trick him just made Roadhog irritated.

Trust was not something easily earned by any Junker, but the older ones were especially tough to break. They went through years of double-crossings and all sorts of wool pulling.

Still, Roadhog felt particularly stupid and vulnerable after being blown off by Junkrat for the third time that week. To go from knowing just about everything about the blond to feeling like a stranger in their, his, own room felt… Wrong. Painful. Tamping down the pain with sparring and helping Angela wasn’t working anymore.

He’d drink, but he got mouthy when he was drunk, plus he’d have to drink a lot… it was a hassle he didn’t feel like going through.

In fact, leaving the room most of the time felt like a hassle, but if he didn’t leave, Reinhardt would come find him, or Angela would call on him, and thing she’d ask questions and it just… no. Not worth it.

Nights like this, though, he would be fine. He felt his age, only exuberated by his ridiculous need for… affection. Somehow during the last few years with Junkrat, he’d grown used to the weird affection they’d shared. Without the periodic bouts of gentleness and affection, he felt… empty, as he lay in bed, mask off and breathing surprisingly easy. His eyes were closed, but sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried.

Well. Fuck. He sighed, staring at the ceiling, noticing little unintentional faces in the swirls of the metal. He missed watching the stars, sometimes.

He jolted when he heard the door opening. He grabbed his mask and quickly clipped it into place, not even pausing when he recognized that raucous laughter. “Hoggy! What’ya hidin’ yer face for? ‘S just me!”

Roadhog only offered a grunt in response, scratching the back of his head where it’d crimped weird.

“Fine. Be that way. You seen my…” Junkrat rooted around his junk drawer for some tool (Roadhog could tell by the way he was poking his tongue out that he wanted his modified screwdriver) Roadhog knew was already on the floor somewhere. “AH!” He crowed, spotting it when the drawer was thoroughly rooted through. “There it is. Thanks big guy. See ya in a bit!”

_Sure you will._ Roadhog thought, but took off his mask, deciding to stay in, maybe wait for Junkrat, to see what would happen. This would be the last time, he promised himself.

`~`

Hours pass, and Junkrat still isn’t back to their room. A quick glace to the clock tells Roadhog that he was waiting too long, and he should just go to sleep while there were still hours left in the night.

Just as he was settling, he heard giggling. _Oh fuck no._

Oh fuck yes, Junkrat was back and he was drunk off his ass. No. No, no, that wasn’t what he was here for. He wasn’t a _parent_ who tucked in his drunk… whatever Junkrat was to him at this point.

Furiously, Roadhog partially clipped his mask into place before storming out, passing Junkrat, who was leaning against the wall for support. “Good night.” He growled as he left their room behind, not giving a shit how loud his boots were as he thundered down the hallway. He didn’t know where he was going, but wherever he was headed, he was pissed. Everything was finally bubbling over, and he needed some fucking mayhem, wanted some blood to spill.

He cursed at the deal he’d made with the crazy ape, needing something to destroy. A town or small building could suffice, but he was stuck with the training room and gym. While they were better than nothing, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

Instead of laying waste to the beautiful rooms, he found a door to the outside and found the heaviest object he could find, an absolutely massive chunk of what appeared to be sandstone and threw it. It took all he had to lift the giant chunk of rock, but it sailed so nicely. It crashed satisfactorily, and he wheezed, remembering all the aches his anger had conveniently helped him forget.

As he recovered, shame built in his chest and twisted his gut. He was too old to be getting jealous, too old to be feeling like this over someone else. Life before Junkrat had been fine enough, quiet, easy. Money when he needed it and shelter before bed. It was _easy_ and quiet. He was fuckin’ _Roadhog_ for Christ’s sake. Roadhog didn’t give a fuck about others. He was cold, heartless. He had to be… when did that change?

`~`

Reinhardt found Roadhog outside, just outside the spotlight’s reach, wheezing into his mask’s filters, head tilted upwards, watching the stars. Sweat trickled down his tanned skin and dampened his loose hair as it rested on his broad, freckled shoulders.

“What is wrong, Roadhog?” The old German rarely felt his age, rarely felt that he was actually old, but for once he did, if only for the fact that he was comforting the younger, but hardened Australian.

Despite the fact that they weren’t due for another mission for another week or two (given their base wasn’t attacked, but that was unlikely) Roadhog wore the same thing he wore into battle, harness, tire and everything. It must’ve been heavy, but Reinhardt didn’t comment, knowing sometimes it was nice to have some reminder of home.

Roadhog couldn’t find the words. Rather, he couldn’t simplify them in a way that didn’t make him feel like a child, so he said nothing, just watching the sky, wishing they were in the southern hemisphere, so at least the stars were the same, but not at this time of the year.

Still, Reinhardt didn’t leave. He didn’t leave, even when Roadhog’s wheezing stopped with a particularly nasty coughing fit. “You don’t have to stay.” He grumbled at the end of it. “Not gonna be too much fun.”

“You don’t have to be. We can, ah… we can talk, if you’d like.” Internally, Reinhardt cringed. That was a rocky transition, but his statement stood, and he sat there quietly for Roadhog’s answer.

Silent, Roadhog looked over at the rock he’d thrown and then leaned against a tree. “Truthfully, I’m exhausted.” He admitted, not minding the bark digging into his scarred and freckled back.

“Ja? I would imagine so.” Reinhardt chuckled, pointing his blind eye towards the stone.

“How do you and Ana do it?” Roadhog asked, shoulders drawn up, tensed, protecting himself.

“The relationship? Communication is the most important part of a relationship, coming to a mutual understanding about what’s going on. I understand you’ve been having some issues with that, yes?” Reinhardt ran a hand through his silver hair and sighed a little. This was very… awkward. “Your rat is not being kind?”

Roadhog laughed. “Not the words I would use, but sure. He’s being a fuckin’ prick.” Admitting that hurt. Admitting that he wanted his Rat back hurt, he was so self-reliant... what happened?

“Tell him.”

“How can I? He doesn’t need me, Reinhardt. If you don’t need something, you toss it. ‘S the natural order.” He pulled up some grass, the simple gesture completing his mental image of himself, eons ago, when life was easy and he was allowed to have complicated feelings for partners because it wasn’t dangerous.

“I’m telling you, speak to him. It may help more than you realize.” Reinhardt shrugged and got up, clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Would you like to join me in the gym? It’s almost six.”

Fuck, had it been that long? “I guess so. I’ll drop my stuff in my room.” Roadhog said as he got up, wiping his hands of the moisture the grass had given.

`~`

As he was dropping his stuff off, he noticed that Junkrat was in their bed still, snoring the way he did when he was having a bad dream. Against his anger, Mako straightened him out, laying him on his side and grabbing a bin, even though he was sure Jamie wouldn’t need it.

He hung up his armor and gave Jamie one last look. It was quiet moments like these that his heat swelled for the tiny blond. He longed to go over and kiss his temple, but he resisted. They were... not exactly together, right? He wanted to ask, but he’d let Jamie sleep.

`~`

Hours later, he was well and truly exhausted, ready for a shower and some sleep. To his surprise, Junkrat was awake, and still there. Mako didn’t take off his mask, and Jamie seemed to notice.

“Hey, Mako! Did… did you come back?” He asked, a bit red in the face, asking without asking if he was the one who’d made sure Jamie would sleep well, as if he really had to ask. Mako hadn’t noticed before, but he’d changed into one of Mako’s shirts, and the sight of it made him all soft inside again.

Still, he didn’t make a noise, taking the shirt he was wearing off and throwing it in the hamper.

“Okay, I know you were here. Um. Can we, ah, can we, uh, hmm?” _Talk_ hung awkwardly in the air.

“About? Talk about the fact that you’ve been ignoring me since you started dating Lùcio? How you pretty much forgot my existence until you were falling down drunk last night?” Oh man, that felt… wrong and vindictive, but it was the truth.

Jamie groaned and shook his head, “I didn’t think you’d get jealous, Hog.”

Mako said nothing, having said his piece. He continued undressing, instead.

“Really? Nothing? You’ve been screwing the German, and you didn’t even tell me! We were supposed to tell each other these sort of things! Mako, what the fuck?” Jamie hobbled over and pushed Mako, as hard as he could. Mako didn’t even pretend to be swayed like he might’ve a little while ago.

“You’ve been _ignoring_ me, Jamie. What the fuck else am I supposed to think? This is the first time we’ve spoken in months, and we share a room! What do you want me around for? Comfort when you’re drunk? A room to sleep in? Who am I to you at this point? Huh? Have you even missed me? Even a little bit?” The word spew came out faster than Mako could control it and as soon as it was out, he wanted to put it right back in. Jamie looked horrified and hurt all at once.

“I… I’m sorry, Mako… I didn’t know you saw it that way.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t exactly been around; or even asked about me.” Mako shouldered his way into the bathroom, Jamie hot on his heels.

“You’re right. You’re totally right.” Jamie sighed and slithered under Mako’s arm. “But I can answer some of that. You’re my boyfriend, my lover, the best fucker I’ve ever known. I’ve missed you a lot. I’ve missed talking to you, I’ve missed being next to you… Lùcio is great, but he’s not my Mako. I know I gotta make it up t’ya, but… will you let me? Y’know, make it up t’ya?”

Mako’s heart leapt into his throat and he sighed, giving his Rat a squeeze. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Take your clothes off, you smell like a liquor store dumpster.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the fic! I had a really hard time coming up with a name. This was originally supposed to be more ReinHog centered but it didn't end up being like that.


End file.
